She wanted someone broken. Someone whose emotions were tangled; someone not all in one piece. She wanted someone who already had wounds; wounds that weren’t yet healed. Yes, she wanted someone broken.

For she was broken too. The glass figurine of her soul was shattered, her vision cloudy—but she wanted someone broken. Not broken quite like her, not in all the same places. So they would make a pair, the two of them, like the salt-and-pepper shakers given to her mother on her wedding day. The two that had been dropped so many times, cracked in so many places, but were still beautiful.

People told her she was crazy; that she should want someone whole and good. But she’d just smile and shake her head, not telling them what was truly going on inside of her mind. For that was only for her to know. And only she ever would.

She didn’t want someone broken so that she could fix them. She wanted someone broken so they couldn’t hurt her. She wanted someone broken, not so she could fix him, but so he could fix her.